He Who Has Suffered You
by Kenta Wolf
Summary: Squall's thoughts are a convolution as he sits atop the Ragnarok before going into Lunatic Pandora. The scar, his relationships concerning Seifer and Rinoa, and fate vs. free will are revealed! The depths of Squall's silence are shown...


**Disclaimer: These people aren't mine. This storyline isn't mine. In an altered dimension, yes they are, but, unfortunately, in this dimension, I would get sued. Yes, the great American pastime: suing! Ah, I know, it's so obvious all this isn't of me own brain, but disclaimers give us a reason to talk. Yap. Speak. Converse. Well, maybe not converse. You aren't talking back to me…unless you're quite confused. Hrm.**

**He Who Has Suffered You**

_"He who has suffered you to impose on him knows you."_

_- William Blake, 'The Marriage of Heaven and Hell'_

            Squall looked out apathetically across the Esthar plains, tugging absently on the bandage around his upper arm. It stung, being wrapped so tight, but it was an insanely smarter idea than letting the gash bleed itself to a clot. Damn behemoths. Who knew those blockish claws were razor-sharp?

            He sighed lightly, staring out to a Lunatic Pandora in its mammoth form, hovering over a miniature Tear's Point like a god's finger threatening to unleash its simple judgement. That was the thing they had to enter. To find the sorceress. It would be the first action in a new path for him. Before it had been find Ellone, and before that, fight Edea. Now it was kill a meat-locker thawing Adel, compress time, and then kill a future sorceress. Strange how the world flips on you when you have your back turned, he thought. Even weirder how you get to the usage of terms like "time compression" and "the end of the world."

            Tomorrow was the end of the world.

            Squall jabbed a thumb at his wound. Quistis wanted to give it a little magic, but he had insisted she save her strength for Lunatic Pandora. For Adel. Always save your strength, only to have it beaten out of you. He smirked and shook his head. In and out of battles…

            Somewhere close by, a feral roar sounded. He inwardly groaned, the previous smile fading rapidly from his features. Another one of those damn beasts. Well, he should expect them coming rather quickly now, considering the Lunar Cry and all. Wincing, Squall began to push himself up, grasping for the gunblade that lay by his side.

            "Don't bother, Squall! We've got guard duty!"

            He looked up from under his bangs to see Irvine running backward, waving at him with his shotgun. Bolting out to the source of the noise beside him were Selphie and Zell.

            _Fine._

            Squall plopped back onto the cold hull of the Ragnarok. He watched the three figures recede into the darkness. When he could no longer hear the clatter of their feet on the dry floor of the plains, his eyes trailed back up to the looming black pillar. There wasn't a rise of hate or fear or confusion at the sight of it. He wouldn't rouse anything. At that moment, the Lunatic Pandora was simply a visual sight. He knew it should have produced some urgency within him, for it held the most dangerous thing he'd ever faced. Probably, though, the reason Squall didn't feel such an emotional intensity was that the whole mission was pressed on him by others. The word "mission" had that sort of feel. And he knew he chose to think of it that way was because he didn't want himself that close to the whole matter. It would drag him down with it. With Ellone and Rinoa at extreme risk…

            _Just put it away, Squall told himself briskly, picking at the bandage again._

            "You're just going to make it worse."

            Squall felt his body falter at the voice. He closed his eyes, letting out his breath.

            "If you won't let Quistis take care of it, at least don't irritate it."

            Rinoa's presense knelt beside him and pushed away the jacket that was on his shoulders. Fingers began to tuck in the loose ends.

            "…Whatever," he forced himself to say.

            "Yeah, I know," she said softly. He allowed the sound ripple in his body and slowoly settle into his soul. Her hands grasped his wound lightly. Squall savored the touch until he heard her whisper and a warm feeling tickled into the pores and the cut. He instantly jerked his arm away, glaring at her.

            "You heard what I told Quistis," he said flatly.

            "Yes," Rinoa quipped sharply back.

            "Then don't do it."

            She narrowed her eyes at him, the warmth of her brown pupils going dark. "Yes, I heard you, but even you, Leonhart, have to admit you going into battle scarred is stupid. Wondrous hamper on our scheme."

            He felt a swell to retort, but pushed it down with effort, knwonig she was right. Thinking about it, Squall turned the harsh look on himself. He didn't forsee that at all.

            He let Rinoa have his arm. The syrupy heat enveloped the sting, washing it out.

            "Goof to let the sorceress have her own way," she said lightheartedly, unwrapping the useless bandage. For him, the work sunk like lead into his stomach. _Don't remind me. There was no question who Ultimecia would choose, if given a choice, but they were about to rob her of that option. He was consciously dooming her. Great thing to do to a companion. Like shoving her in front of a speeding train._

            "You worry too much," Rinoa affirmed. _You don't worry enough, he thought back to her. "Going to make permanent creases in that cute forehead." She sat beside him, close enough for her bare arm to brush his every time she shifted. "Probably because you've plopped yourself right in front of the thing. Now, if you only scoot yourself around to stare at the rapidly fading sunset, you'd feel better." She turned to face him with a grin. "My logic being pretty keen this evening, am I right?"_

            "Undoutably," Squall answered, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

            She noticed he didn't even flinch to move. Her grin grew wider. "But I forgot. You like to worry. Sorry, wrong suggestion." She faced the Lunatic Pandora with him and fell silent.

            He kept his eyes on her for a moment longer, then returned them to ahead. Rinoa knew him _way too well. It was interesting to watch her work with the way he was. She didn't have to change herself to get through to him, which seemed uncanny. Instead of counteracting his unresponsive nature with disregard, she was stubborn. Squall didn't know why this worked; it was akin to setting a brick wall up to a brick wall. And now, just sitting there, letting him be himself and not prodding, she was __still getting through to him. Strange._

            Beneath him, the Ragnarok hummed and slightly rumbled. The movement ebged out, but the outer lights for the ship snapped on, keeping low so as not to attract _that many monsters. On the ground, hidden under the red metal bulk, Laguna laughed loudly. Squall inwardly cringed. Not only was the moron acting irresponsible for such a daunting tast on the horizon, but he was a sound beacon for ever creature within a mile or so. Out on the plains, in the hanging still silence of the night, every disturbance of air carried, as if the atmosphere was desperate for movement. To his even greater disappointment, the man shouted out to Irvine and the others walking back from their battle._

            "Hey, how was it?" Laguna yelled, as Squall pressed fingers to the rim of his eye socket, shaking his head.

            "Giant leopard cat with a nasty temper," Irvine bellowed in return. Squall grimaced.

            "I've seen it before," Selphie added just as loudly. Squall groaned.

            Zell cupped hands around his mouth. "It just wouldn't go down!" Squall reached over for his weapon.

            "Oh, really?! That's not a good sign!" Laguna answered. Squall's grip tightened murderously on the gunblade. He clenched his teeth and began to ready himself to slide down Ragnarok's side.

            Rinoa burst from her seated position. "People, your decibles aren't exactly keeping animals away from here! Go inside! _Please!"_

            The trio stopped dead in their tracks, wide-eyed. Uttering no other sounds, they swiftly retreated into the ship.

            "Sorry!" Laguna yelled up to them. Squall rubbed a temple in frustration.

            "It's okay," Rinoa smirked. "I don't think they'll disobey the order." As he returned to his previous position, she settled closer beside him. He didn't move out of the way, as he would have done earlier that year. Ever since her forcing him to be close to her on reentry from space, he was becoming more and more comfortable to the proximity. Maybe he wasn't _used to it yet, but then again, he never supposed he would be. "Ah, peace and quiet once more," she sighed._

            _Well, not peace._

            After what Squall estimated was a half an hour, Rinoa turned her head and stared at him. She gazed on him without a smile or any expression whatsoever, doused in thought. And didn't turn away. It was making him uncomfortable and viciously curious what was on her mind.

            _Usually she's so full of life. How she's silent. Is it because I want it quiet?_

_            Now he couldn't concentrate on the mission ahead of him. Her flat watch distracted him. Her eyes were fixated on his face…no, they were fixated on –_

            Rinoa moved, reaching up a hand and placing her fingertips on his scar.

            "Cure," she whispered. He was beginning to feel the spark of warmth when he shrugged her touch away. Squall moved back out of her range.

            Her arm laggardly dropped and she cocked her head at him.

            "Even you, Leonhart, have to admit you going into battle scarred is stupid," she said heavily.

            …_the hell?_

            He shook his head. "It's just a scar. Don't waste strength on it."

            Rinoa still looked him straight in the eye. He couldn't understand why she wanted to heal the mark. In her gaze he found nothing revealing, and this puzzled him more than infuriated him. Wha – 

            And then it hit him. She wasn't talking referring to the importance of the scar, but what was behind it. Catching his expression, Rinoa lowered her visual scrutiny, rubbing her palms together.

            Squall didn't know what to fell. He certainly didn't want to divulge any of his thoughts. He blinked twice, trying to clear his mind, and moved to confront the fortress, unable and unwilling to speak directly at her.

            "It's just a scar." It was barely above a whisper, and Squall didn't expect Rinoa to catch it.

            They were going into Lunatic Pandora to find a sorceress. Find a sorceress, find a knight. When they neutralized the ancient Esthar queen, would Almasy…would he become her knight? He was under Ultimecia's control, and she probably needed him to do her tasks until possessing Rinoa. Squall tried to stem his useless anger at Seifer. Did he even know, was he even aware of what he was doing? Did he actually think the whole game he played was his dream? The scary prospect providing itself was that it _was his dream._

            He was always so stupidly egotistical. Almasy didn't even know what a knight was, know what nobility or chivalry was. He didn't live and fight for his lady sorceress, he lived and fought for himself, the glory of his dream. Would do anything for it, betraying Garden, turning his back on Edea…maim and murder for himself.

            "Squall…"

            And he had to think about that everytime he saw his reflection. Seifer had made it, Seifer had marked him, and Seifer had made him. The sorceress' puppet had fone around creating utter havoc, and Squall had to run after him, always run after him to restore the damage. Almasy taunted him from a mirror…

            Squall was some sort of futile tool to fend off terror. There really wasn't much behind the aid – such explains the silence. No, all he was defined by was a wound, given to him by his greatest enemy and ruler. As long as he had avoided Seifer's attempts at instigation, he was free from that type of reputation. But, no, the world had shoved and locked him into the role, as if not content to see him unbound.

            It wasn't his mission – that word allowed a bit of liberty – no, it was his _duty._

            "Hey…"

            It wasn't as if being discontent with the role was making it legitimate to him to turn away. The vast importance of it geld him with his own will. It was just…just that he had been so deviously tricked into _freely taking the responsibility…Knowingly giving up his freedom using his freedom – wasn't free will just peachy?_

            Or was it destiny?

            Rinoa's hand clasped gently on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, not really seeing the black box anyway.

            He wouldn't waver, that he knew. But inwardly, he knew he would always be questioning. Not the importance of the act, not the act, not his importance or himself either. Squall would always be questioning the importance of himself as he was a human, and not just being.

            _We don't care about the intricacies of your soul, say Urd, Verdandi and Skuld, say the Moirae, we just care about your soul._

_            Rinoa took him by both shoulders and gave him a blunt, hard shake. His eyes sprung open and he was facing a stern woman, a determined sorceress._

            "Stop, Squall. Stop musing," she said curtly. He stared wide-eyed at her, and his lips were beginning to form a return, but she cut him off. "No. Just stop. It isn't helping, it's hurting. It's scarring you."

            That whole thing again?

            The young man put his hands on her arms to pull them away.

            "It's the past, and that can't do anymore damage," he mumbled.

            "Oh, yeah, you know that's bull."

            He glared directly into her eyes. It was great and all she cared about bringing the social side of him out, but it was not any of her business to pick into his mind.

            Low and dangerous, Squall asked, "Do you think I want it?"

            Rinoa let him push her away, but her eyes narrowed suspiciously, conspiratorily.

            "Then why is it still there?"

            _She doesn't get it._

            "Why do you refuse to heal it?"

            _See, all this time, I'm nothing but a figure. Nobody understands._

            "You protect your pain, huh?"

            "It's just a scar, alright?" His eyes blazed furiously. "Just an old training wound."

            "That you got from Seifer," she stated, unconvinced.

            "And he has one from me, yes. It isn't a _symbol" – he hissed the word to show his contempt at it – "it isn't masochism, it isn't a reminder! It's just" – he dropped his tone – "a scar."_

            And it was.

            Rinoa didn't respond, so he continued. "What – you think it would be rid of all the shit that happened?"

            "No – " 

            "What, then?"

            The sorceress shut her jaw, and instead of speaking, glared intensely at him.

            "My 'pain' or whatever isn't going to sit in a physical form. That's just stupid."

            It was a straight lie, and it was ironic that it had a point. Further ironic that the truth defied the point he was making. Bluffling her to catch her bluff. Great impulse plan.

            "I know, but – "

            "What, you don't like looking at it?" He shook his head. "Forget about it. It doesn't have enough importance to waste strength on it." To show he was done with the whole matter, Squall got up and paced a few meters away, into a fuzzy, soft light of the ship.

            _Just that I had the spirit capable to pull it off, right?_

_            Nevermind that Seifer, Ultimecia, the Norns and Fates threw the stick for him to fetch…_

            "And you?"

            Squall turned to her, arms crossed, at first lost to what she was saying because he was on another train of thought. It caught up to him, eventually.

            Rinoa repeated herself. "Are you important enough?"

            _What in hell kind of question is that? Of course I'm important enough._

_            Mechanically, Squall responded. "I don't pity myself."_

            "And neither do I," she said, slowly rising. What – she thought it was all a matter of pity? That was an off analysis.

            Rinoa dusted off her hands and held her head high. "That's why I don't think it's a waste of strength."

            Understanding connected in his mind. She was stubborn…a brick wall to a brick wall. And…and Rinoa knew him _way too well. Knew the way he acted, knew his expressions. She knew he was lying. However, she didn't know to what amount he was hiding._

            "Look, Squall, I don't mind the scar. I just know you do. Tell me why."

            Tell her why, eh? Tell her that looking at himself reminded him of Almasy, and made him fear that he would become the blonde. Thinking ahead, it was entirely possible…that Squall could become Rinoa's knight. Hell, it wasn't as if he could be himself and get away with it.

            "I'm not doubting myself, Rinoa. I'm still going to do this."          

            "Clearly." She shifted. "But what are you doing it for?"

            Squall was taken aback. She sure knew which questions to ask…but she was probing! Of course he knew why he was doing all of this – it was destiny, it was loyalty, it was honor, it was reven – 

            He cut his own meditation off.

            Revenge.

            Seifer had pestered him his entire life, always wanting a response, and now Squall was giving him what he wanted. He was feeding the knight's disillusionment. _Now he knew why Almasy always grinned victoriously when he watched him. It was because Squall had already __lost to Seifer. His revenge was a joke. Every time he confronted Almasy, it only gave him more glory._

            Squall reached up and gingerly stroked a finger down his cut.

            When Seifer looked in the mirror, he probably laughed. When Leonhart looked at his own reflection, he simply was marked…simply was marked.

            Rinoa's soft sigh brought his senses around. He snapped his head to her direction and found she was sitting down on the Ragnarok.

            "I gotta teach you how to think aloud," she said in a sad smile. He hadn't realized he'd ignored her and entirely disregarded her presence. It just was, he was so conditioned to doing it. "You're kind of like watching television on mute."

             Squall closed his mouth which had been stunned agape. There was a piercing sour guilt within him, and he silently sat beside her. He hoped Rinoa could see the deliberate act as an apology.

             The stars fiercely blazed in the inky blueblack velvet of the sky vault. He found it easier to his mind to let the eyes rest on them. A mild headache was beginning to whine in his temples, despite the gentle night. Squall tried to focus on the external stimulus of the plains, the lonely but silken-soft sound of the wind and its carried scent of scorched plants. It made the world seem vast, with the gusts smoothing over them as if they were pebbles in the stream. It couldn't have been _that large – he'd seen it all. Now space – that was endless. It all looked so close, but it was so empty._

            "Rinoa?"

            "Hrm?" She tried to keep it neutral, but Squall could tell she was surprised.

            "Do you think if I had a dream, I'd be like Seifer?"

            She looked at him thoughtfully. "You don't have a dream?"

             He shrugged. Certainly didn't seem that way.

             She carefully considered his answer, then turned away. "No."

             "…Why?"

             Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "You're yourself, Squall," Rinoa put faintly. "As strange as it sounds, both Seifer and you are alike but…Look, even if you had a dream, you would still be you." She glanced at him rapidly from the corner of her eye and sighed. "Sorry. I'm not making a whole lot of sense."

             Squall looked over and studied her while turning the possibility over in his mind.

             "My dream…if I had a dream…I wouldn't see my dream the same way he does," he laboured slowly. Seifer had a passionate dream, fretted with golden fire. If Squall ever was allowed to harbour a dream…it would be mild.

             Rinoa smiled in a way that didn't show in her eyes. "You would still be you."

             He was simply like that, he supposed. Yet, something was nagging his mind.

             "How are we alike?" he asked her, now extremely curious about her comment.

             She looked away, embarrassed, surprised at herself.

             "Like I said, I'm not making a whole lot of sense." But as soon as she saw the dissatisfaction leak through his countenance, she continued. "You and Seifer… I don't know…you kind of go together. Weird, I know. Just…just look at it this way. You two are opposites, you know? He's dynamic, you're stoic, and so on. Well, you know the saying: 'All things that have opposites are generated by their opposites.'"

             "Light and dark."

             "Right. I think that's what I was shooting at when I said that. I think. Things just tumble out of my mouth sometimes…"

             Frustratingly, the answer to his question produced a new question.

             Why did he have an opposite?

             "Matter and antimatter," Rinoa murmured, still ruminating aloud.

             Why it bothered him so much was astounding to him. Usually he let such slide. Perhaps it was Rinoa pestering his mind with an electric shock. She was stimulating some unwelcome things in him, in such clever ways. She knew him…all that time, all those battles…

              Squall remembered the time of the Balamb Garden Festival, her in that dress that he had first seen her in. She had mocked his slump, and it had irritated his mood, jarred him out of his comfortable state of solitude, and he had swatted at her. And light Rinoa, anticipating it, had swiftly moved away.

             Yes, sometimes she was a bit off in her study of him, but, she did know how to stimulate a reaction in him.

             And suddenly Squall understood it. The instantaneous of this epiphany was so powerful he felt his blood quicken in his veins.

             Rinoa knew how to affect to get an effect…and so did Seifer.

             Rinoa knew him thoughroughly…and-so-did-Seifer.

             They were playing him, shuffling his fate around like deities, and, unknowingly, Squall had fallen into the appropriate place.

              But, hell! What were these feelings for her - !

             He yelled aloud, ripping himself from her side, the rapid heartbeat making him breathe violently. He anxiously searched out into the dark, anticipating some salvating answer.

              She _couldn't be doing the same thing! She __couldn't, or else he would hate her as he did Almasy. And he didn't hate her, because she found him for himself – _

              There.

             - and Seifer just provoked to draw him, not himself.

             Yet, still, Squall was irritated by all these people handling his destiny, his fate, directly. He had no participation in it, either. All because – all because he had let them! He had let them do it! He had…he had given up his freedom, freely.

            All his original frustrated energy was spent. The answer that had pummeled him from that night left a limpid aftertaste of despondency. He dropped his arms, feeling useless. _Dammit…_

           "Squall, are you alright?" Rinoa asked tenderly, her voice distant from the space he had put between them.

            _That thought made him set his teeth and close his eyes so tight he saw literal swarms of ephemeral grey fuzz prickle his lack of vision.  _

            Was what he felt for her even his own? Or did she place it within him?

             All his free will was being chucked out and checked off the list.

            Or did she bring out something that was already there? As cheesy as that sounded, Squall hoped it was correct. At least it was his. Besides, wasn't his allowing his feeling her to seep out his own doing? She may have stimulated it, but it was he who let it out.

             _…right?_

_            Squall turned, and watched her._

            Fate was a damn bastard. That kept occurring in his mind.

            Rinoa tried to cheer him with an infectious smile. "You worry too much."

            And rightly, he just burst, "Why? Why do you bother me like this? Why do you bother me with this? Why? Why do you have to torment me?"

            "Torment?!"

             Squall clamped down on the rest of the rant. He didn't like uncontrollable emotions.

             Rinoa was scrutinizing him, her visage becoming enraged.

             "Listen, Squall, people get bothered and tormented all the time! All of us, too! Irvine, Selphie, Quistis, Zell, Laguna, me! And now it's about time you are affected by other things. Don't you even feel some empathy for people? It's like you're vacant! All you seem to want to do is live a hermit's life, and no matter how much we give – our pain, our laughter, our frustration, our suffering – you…you don't. You just don't give, you don't trust – I don't know. Don't you realize people need that kind of connection – even you. I know what that look in your eye entails when I notice you looking at me. You don't see how you need it. And we all need you, Squall…"

            He was speechless, mind still trying to process.

            Rinoa faltered, and looked at him as if he was a lost cause.

            "This is the way the system _works, Squall," she pleaded, voice subdued, now. She got up and slowly approached him. "You can't say you don't need it. You came back for me…You see, at that moment, you needed me, and I needed…needed you. I saw your desperation. I'm never going away, Squall. I'll always be here." She stopped in front of him, head tilted back a little. "…And I'll be waiting for you to see how much you need it. Okay?"_

            The look in her eyes was aching, and he could see how much bravery she possessed by dealing with it. It made him feel horrible. He didn't want to feel like such a monster, such a burden. He never had to deal with it before. But now he had. Her look was so penetrating.

            And it was true, that the longing he felt for her was there. Squall often questioned why, but, no, he already knew why. He already knew, in his heart of hearts.

            Squall could see she was hurting to be so close to him, and it awakened him to his own ache. He wanted her smile, her spirit, her touch.

            …Was that his own doing? Was that wish even his own?

            Squall could feel himself pull away at the mention of it, but he corked it. No, he would not fall into that train of thought again. It was an endless circle, anyway.

            He never felt anything so strongly…and he was timid about rousing it – himself –

            So if he acted on it on his own, the wish, the want, the dream, _would be his own._

            He felt his body relax, and her eyes hurt him even more.

            _This is my own time, and my own fate, my own freedom, Squall thought._

            He leaned over, cautious of her gentle surprise, and kissed her lips tenderly. She was startled, but soon enough reacted, and fell into him with such a sigh it broke his being into happy sorrow. She helped along this shattering of his spirit, and, in a way, frightened, he was wondering how anything but death, anybody but who was dying, could feel such soft sadness.

            But Rinoa caught him before he lapsed into this death, her lips warm, quivering, and alive.

            And finally, before he had drunk his drought of pure emotion to its fill, she pulled away. Squall reluctantly opened his eyes, unwilling to look upon the cold reality. What he had felt, what he was feeling, was real, and his own. It was so much truth.

            Rinoa's smile was awakened. She didn't move out of his embrace, but with the most expressive eyes, gazed upon him. With a graceful movement, she reached up and traced her fingers on his forehead, over his scar.

            "Simply a scar, eh?" she remarked, stroking it.

            Squall felt a twinge of an uncomfortable feeling. It was unwelcome.

            "It's just a mark," he said.

**Author's Note: This is one of those kinds of stories that had a mind of its own! It wishes to write itself at its own designated time! You could see that I meant to make it a romance, as Rinoa is present, but it went off on its own tangent! I don't even understand some parts, but I'm deeply assured that the story knew what it said to a T. Yes, it had its own mind. Any writer can back me up on this…right? I would call this a true epiphany, and it was a pleasure to write it. The story should have more praise than I, I insist. I swear I am probably one of the last people who defends Squall's intelligence, and I _know I'm one of the last to portray Rinoa as such above. Seriously, she didn't come off as a ditz to me. She was my kind of female: Power to her! Comon' people, she's super-aggressive and her dog rules!_**


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